Who We Are
by renrie
Summary: She was always an outsider. He was considered an exception. Will fate bring them together or tear them apart?
1. Chapter One

"Deacon!" A voice rang out through the open summer air, causing a brunette girl to stir lightly in her sleeping position under the boardwalk, "Deacon Matthews, if you don't answer me you're in serious trouble.." It came again, this time successfully waking the girl up.

She groaned, gazing around in order to gather information on where exactly she was and replying to the voice she knew all too well, "What the hell do you want, Harper?"

There was a slight commotion at the far end of the boardwalk as a figure bent down and covered the only opening to the beach with a ghastly shadow, "I knew I'd find you here." Harper crawled in to meet the glare of her best friend. The two 16-year-olds were nearly inseparable from the day they met at Playa Linda Orphanage almost 5 years ago, yet both were polar opposites. Harper with her blonde hair, straight A grades and bubbly attitude contrasted with Deacons dark brown hair, terrible grades and boyish sense of humor.

Deacon sighed, rubbing a sleep doused eye and laying back down. "Where else would you find me, Harper? You know I'm hardly ever home. And hey, it's the first day of summer .. wouldn't want to waste it."

There was silence, but not an awkward one, rather an understanding one from Harper. After being adopted both girls were ecstatic to hear they'd be attending the same high school and living barely 6 blocks away from each other, it was more than either could ask for. But upon arriving to the new houses – Harper began to realize that Deacon's life with the new family was less than perfect. They had an older son, Landon, who now become Deacon's older brother, and a father who was rarely home and when he was it was celebrated to see him sober.

Landon was the perfect son. Sandy blonde hair, muscular, good grades and an ability to surf like no other. He was a townie while Deacon sported the land of "foreigner".

Here in Playa Linda there were two types of people, usually only referred to by those who respect their spots in society. The townies and the foreigners, shorted to T's and F's. Townies were surfers and beautiful, and tended to be rich and born in Playa Linda. There were said to be exceptions – but both girls had yet to see one. Foreigners, on the other hand, were known to be poor, not as pretty and bystanders when it came to surfing competitions. Foreigners were excluded from all activities, including the "Beginning Of Summer Bonfire", which was occurring just down the beach from the girls hide out.

Harper clicked her tongue a few times, listening intently to the waves as the crashed onto the shore.

"Whaaat Harper?" Deacon rolled her eyes and heaved in an annoyed tone.

"Well, it's just that .. there's this bonf—.." She started just before Deacon cut her off.

"Yeah, the Beginning Of Summer Bonfire. Landon's there. What about it?" Deacon proper herself up on an elbow, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"I just kind of wanted to go check it out. I mean – most of the people that are there are probably totally trashed by now and wouldn't even realized we were F's." Harper pleaded with her friend.

"_Whatever_."

"Please, Deacon? Just once. We've never even **tried** to go to one before. Please?" Harper got on her knees, clasping her hands together in a prayer-like way, "Please?"

"Fine. Fucking .. _fine_. But Harper Sanders, you owe me. God do you owe me."

Harper squealed, jumping up and straightening out her jeans miniskirt and argyle sweater, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"


	2. Chapter Two

"Watch your mouth

hold your tongue, boy

because you're running out of breath

running out of time before every

careless word that you utter

renders you utterly useless.

Now you're drowning in your own salvia.

Trying to spit yourself to the top of your empty world"

- The Juliana Theory

A young boy stood, as best he could in his current condition, with a bottle of beer in one hand and a half smoked joint in the other. His lips curved up in a half-smile type way, and the look of pure bliss on his face wouldn't last much longer than the few conscience seconds he had left. Falling in a heap onto the cool sand, he landed on his side just in time to let out a mouth full of throw up.

"Man down!" A voice called out, indicating that there was yet another passed out teen. Just another faceless victim that would have to spend the night at a parentless house, usually that of Sarah Borden. Sarah quickly tended to the boy to make sure he was at least capable of getting up and moving. She stumbled over and nudged him lightly.

"Get up, get up." She shoved him a little harder this time. Although she didn't know the boy, it was always known that Sarah would be the one to take the left over drunks home to her house if they were too drunk to function. It was definitely a case that fit the scenario, he'd be coming home with her and she knew it.

Two girls approached the scene, one with her hand over her eyes to shade herself from the flicker of the few flames left from the bonfire. Through the shadows Sarah couldn't make much of anything out, and as she propped the boy up on a nearby beach chair left over from the daily escapades of tourists in the area, she made sure to straighten out her blouse before getting up to stumbled towards them.

"Can I help you?" She asked, slurring her words together.

"We just came past to see what was up; we figured the bonfire was almost over." A blonde answered in a chipper voice, causing her comrade to roll her bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the firelight.

"It is over." Sarah stated, turning quickly on a heel back to the drunk, who was now holding himself up with one elbow and lightly groaning.

"Well ex-fucking-scuse me." The brunette snapped.

Sarah slowly turned, 'What was that?"

"Nothing, she didn't say anything. She's just –" The blonde began, trying to cover up for her friends obviously huge mistake.

"No. You know damn well what I said. I think you're a bitch, Sarah Borden." The brunette stepped forward, sticking out her hand to introduce herself in the coldest way possible.

"How do you know me?" Sarah snapped, ignoring the held out hand.

"Everyone knows you, Sarah." The girl smirked, "You're like the most popular like townie like everrr." She mocked.

"And who're you?"

"I-I-I'm Harper Sanders," The blonde spoke up, fixing her miniskirt nervously, "And this is—"

"I'm Deacon Matthews. You're worst nightmare." Deacon cackled.

"I don't give a shit what you are, you're an F and that's all that matters." Sara snarled, loading her mouth with spit and aiming it in the girls way, "And that's that."


	3. Chapter Three

"Can you feel her heartbeat racing?

Can you taste the fear in your sweat?

You've done this wrong, it's too far gone."

- Underoath

The initial shock that overcame Deacon was one that she couldn't describe. Whether it was fear, or embarrassment or just sheer anger, she couldn't put her finger on it. But whatever it was, it soon passed. With a glare she rose her hand and landed a punch on Sarah's perfectly shaped nose.

"Oh my God!" Sarah cried out in pain, grabbing at her wounded area as a river of crimson gushed from it, "I think you broken my fucking nose, you bitch!" She retaliated, grabbed a chunk of Deacon's hair and pulling.

"Deacon! Sarah! Deacon – Oh, shit." Harper heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, throwing her arms to her side after an attempt to break the girls up, 'This is absolutely pointless." She muttered to herself.

Words were spat between the girls as Deacon pulled Sarah to the floor and proceeded to straddle her as she franticly slapped at her exposed limbs, "I hate -…" The sound of sirens stopped the girls in midsentence.

"What the fuck is that, Harper?" Deacon's eyes quickly shot up to her friend standing above them, "Harper! What the fuck is that?"

"It's.. It's the cops." Harper stammered out before fainting onto the sand below her.

"Oh fuck." With that Deacon jumped off Sarah and ran to Harper's side, "Harper, wake up! Let's go. C'mon Harper, you can't do this to me!" She slung her best friends limp arm around her shoulder and began to hobble from the scene of the crime where Sarah had already fled, leaving the drunken boy behind to fend for himself, an impossible feat for the state of mind that he was in.

The weight of Harper significantly slowed Deacon down and within seconds the patrol car had caught up to her at a lame crawl, "Damn. I thought I was doing good." Deacon muttered, realizing the rate at which she was traveling was far beyond what she normally could without the weight of another person. "Hello, officer, what can I do for you?"

"Deacon Matthews?" The cops raised eyebrow showed a look of suspiciousness.

"Why that'd be me." Deacon soon realized her sarcasm was getting the best of her, especially in a situation as crucial as this, but she couldn't help but be the way she was.

"Your mother called you in missing about an hour—.." The cop was cut off by the snide reply from Deacon, "She's not my mom. She's far from it, I'm adopted."

"Well that's besides the point, sweetie. But before I take you home I'd like to check out that shiner you have." A frightened look drew its self upon Deacons face, there was something to be seen from the fight with Sarah Borden? "May I ask how you got that?" He inquired.

"Well – I.. I just."

"We'll have to take you in, won't we?" Was the only response to her incomplete answer.


	4. Chapter Four

A month had passed since the incident had occurred between the two girls and Deacon stood tall in front of a small gathering of people in the Playa Linda Courtroom. After being taken to the station and having the police contact the Borden's about the whole ordeal, it was decided to take the matter to court. Luckily, the Borden's had choose not to press charges due to the fact that the only two witnesses both had very vague stories of what had occurred.

Deacon could feel the eyes on her from across the room, they'd been there ever since that night. Everyone was always watching, always whispering, finding a new reason to dislike the Matthews for bringing Deacon into their home. Why have such an unruly daughter when they already had the picture perfect son? She knew that's what they were all thinking.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she rested her head on her crossed arms which laid on the table and sighed loudly, the rush of air sending her new short hair flying.

"Deacon Matthews?" The judge called out firmly from the stand.

She only raised her head slightly, her eyebrows following, "You will be required to complete 200 hours of community service here in Playa Linda." An even louder sigh escaped her lips, "Great." She muttered and then, speaking louder, "And where will this community service occur?"

"I've spoken to those I know around Playa Linda and we've came to the conclusion that you will be working at the Surf Shop." Immediately upon hearing it Deacon rolled her eyes.

"Thank you, Judge." She quickly turned on a heel, ignoring the fact that Sarah was quickly bustling up to the Judge as he made ready to leave.


	5. Chapter Five

"Bradin Westerly, you listen to me!" Sarah snarled the moment she walked into the door, causing the blonde haired boy to look up quickly from his work, his green eyes piercing through her.

"Hey there to you too, Sarah. I didn't know you could still boss me around like I was your boyfriend." He replied, going back to work without worrying about what Sarah had to say, "I haven't seen you in a while, how've things been?" He monotonously inquired, without gazing up.

"Shutup, who cares? I just need you to do something for me, treat this new girl like shit, Bradin. Treat her like royal shit." Sarah began to leave, concluding there was nothing left to say just as the new girl made her way to the glass door of Jay's Surf Shop. She took a glance at the sign, thought about turning back, and then proceeded to place her hand on the handle and shrug, swinging it open. Sarah's eyes grew wide, automatically knowing she had to hide, "Bradin, don't you dare give my spot away." With that Sarah ducked behind a row of surf boards waiting to be polished and listened to the conversation.

"Hey, Deacon Matthews. I'm new here." She stuck out her hand in an offering to Bradin, who shot a glance in the direction of Sarah and decided to do as she asked. _Hey, we may not be dating, but I don't need to be on the wrong side of the popularity pole this summer._

"Hi. I know." Was Bradin's sole remark.

"Oh, well.. should you give me a tour around, or should I just get started on something?"

His only response was a shrug of his shoulders.

"Well fuck." Deacon muttered, sitting down behind the counter, "I guess I'll just fucking sit here." Her back was slightly turned towards Sarah's hiding spot and the door that led to her escape, seeing her chance Sarah stood up and scampered to the door, opening it silently and letting it slam behind her.

"What was that?" Deacon turned hastily in her chair.

"Must've been the wind."

Deacon sighed, rolling her eyes and picking at a nail, "Hell, this is going to be a long summer."

"You can say that a-fucking-gain."

"This is going to be a long summer."

"Well aren't you so damn witty?"

Deacon couldn't help by smile. _Yeah, I am._


End file.
